


For All The Things I Take

by Scarlet_Nin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man Far from Home - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Michelle Jones, Don't mess with Gen Z kids, Flash Thompson Redemption, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Identity Reveal, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Mr. Harrington needs a raise, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Nerds stick together, Nick Fury is Not Amused, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Michelle Jones, Protective Ned Leeds, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Teachers, Psychological Trauma, Sneaky Nick Fury, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, mentioned Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-11 07:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20150062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Nin/pseuds/Scarlet_Nin
Summary: In the aftermath of the water monster being destroyed Peter barely has the time to take a breather. He’s soaked through the bone with his heart beating fast enough to break through his ribcage yet all it takes is a single glance for it to stop.The building shakes before it crumbles. Falling sideways as he strains to move fast enough to prevent it from crushing his class. Face bare there’s no time to think of anything but the crushing weight pressing down on him once again.





	1. Chapter 1

Head throbbing against his skull Peter strains to pick himself up from the rubble. Dust thick in the air. He tries to ignore the squeezing sensation holding his heart captivate at the sight of it. Breathing is such a chore as he wheezes past the coughs shaking his chest. Shivering and clothes clinging to him he can’t feel the sweat on his body. Soaked through the bone with his heart beating a mile per minute he stands. Shaky on his feet as he tries to catch his breath.

_In and out. In. Out. God, I hate this. I just wanted a break. Damned monsters._

Falling has never bothered him before. The opposite. He loves feeling the wind underneath his limbs. The thrill of flying on strings is calming in the way it gets his head to clear. Free from worries, from stress. The easy confidence he gains from knowing he’s catching himself over and over. Addiction in its purest form. No matter how often he may fall he doubts he could ever stop from swinging into the clouds again. After all he never knew when it was time to quit.

_“Stubborn to a fault and here I thought you’d met your match. Honestly kid, one day you’ll give me a heart attack and a head full of grey hair with your constant need to ignore every rule I enforce to keep you safe. You know I’ve problems with both yet you never fail to jump back into the fray even after you’re clearly done. I’m gonna chalk that up to your lack of impulsive control. Typical teenage behavior.”_

But it doesn’t mean he’s not terrified of crashing. Of knowing this time, he might not get back up. The tower falling away underneath his body had been enough to cause a few heart problems of his own. The thought of death is flashing across his mind. Either his own or those who had been unlucky enough to be underneath the tower. Thank god, his ears didn’t pick out the sound of bones crunching beneath stone. Instead they’d picked out the cheers of his classmates.

“Yeah! Look! Mysterio saved us!”

“Oh my god I thought we’re going to die!”

“Babe? Are you okay? We’re fine, it’s over now!”

“Is everybody alright?!”

Peter’s knees shake in relief as he puts his hands on his knees. A single thought bouncing through his head at hearing their voices.

_They’re safe. They’re safe. Thank god. They’re safe._

Only for his blood to freeze as soon as he looks up. A single glance is all it takes for his heart to stop its rapid peace. His breath gets knocked out of his lungs with more force than the tower had managed. Mouth dry despite his wet state he breaks into a run.

_No. Nonono—NO!_

The building shakes, cracking in places before it crumbles. His class pauses at the noise some turning around to identify the sound. Screams of terror fill the previous chatters of victory and joy as the building falls sideways.

Peter doesn’t need enhanced vision to see even if they did run now. They’d never escape the rubble of concrete falling down on them. He hears them call for Mysterio. The pure panic in Mr. Harrington’s voice as he strains to run faster to prevent his class from getting crashed. The loud beats of their hearts a constant throb in his ears between the grinding noise of rubble crackling in stability. He sees them fall to their knees trying to cover their heads in hopes of survival. The figure of Mr. Harrington bending over the small group to protect them with his body knowing it would be useless.

Peter wills himself to run faster—a_ little bit faster_ and he’d reach them—

He slides to a stop a few feet away from his class hands turned upwards. Feet firm on the wet ground he braces himself. Ready to catch the inevitable. Face bare there’s no time to think of anything but the crushing weight pressing down on him once again.

_Fuck! Shit—Shit, not again._

Peter grunts in pain as he feels his bones grinding against what appears to be his outer skin. It hurts—_burns_ in a way he hoped to never feel again. But he holds. Barely standing upright as he struggles but _he holds_. Unsteady and shaky but firm nonetheless for now. Adrenaline pumping through his roaring ears as he struggles to breath. Eyes scrunched up. It feels like the world is resting upon his back, shoulders, hands as he lowers himself to one knee. A high keening noise escaping his mouth before quietness soothes the ringing in his ears. Aside from unsteady breathing the uproar had faded.

It doesn’t last a second before the loudness comes back.

_“Peter?”_

Mr. Harrington’s voice slides through his concentration like a bullet shot through skin. Color draining from his face as his blood flushes from his head. Peter’s eyes snap open to see his class staring at him with equally pale faces full of shock. Colors melting together. He makes a noise in his throat which suited a startled animal more than a human as his other leg buckles.

His class screams.

* * *

Ned knows the moment he sees the building fall he’s not going to die. Call it wishful thinking or unwavering faith he knows Peter won’t let them get hurt. Not his best friend. Still, he pulls Betty close and prays. Prays for Peter in a way he hasn’t done since the start of middle school. Where all his worries concerned not becoming another bully victim. He hasn’t become one of those. Not with Peter around. Peter who always had his back. His best friend whose sixth sense was knowing whether Ned needed help and moved to do so without a second thought of consideration for himself. A true hero even before the bite and the superpowers. He’d always been a hero in Ned’s eyes from the very start. From the day he told Flash to bully someone else—becoming the victim instead—to the day he saw him as Spiderman. Fearless, brave and kind Peter Parker.

Peter who looks terrified in the face of their classmates.

Something feral snarls in Ned’s chest at the wide fearful eyes. Protectiveness pushes out any hint of fear in his body as Peter falls onto his knees—_while holding a freaking building from crushing them all._

_“Parker?! What the hell—”_

_“Oh my god! Look at him! He’s holding…holding up a building—”_

_“What the fuck!?”_

_“We’re going to die! I don’t want to die—"_

Being a superhero always sounded cool. But now seeing the ashen face of his best friend who starts wheezing for breath, brows furrowing with the thin trail of blood running down the side of his chin, Ned feels nothing but helplessness. He might not have superpowers of his own but he can do what he’s always done best. He’s going to support Peter as good as he can. Time to do some damage control.

“Everybody, _shut_ up!”

Ned pants after his outburst. Never one to raise his voice his classmates fall quiet. Peter whimpers—more of a wheezing noise of destress—and Ned never wants to hear such a sound again. Eyes glassy his heart sinks as he reads the words Peter forms with his lips. Too quiet

_“Not again. I can’t breathe—it’s crushing me. Can’t move, my chest hurts. Please, I can’t move—"_

A panic attack in the making. Yet he still holds up the building.

“Don’t say anything about the…the thing he’s holding! Do you want to set him into a panic attack? Do you want to be the reason we’re gonna be crushed to tiny bits of shredded meat like bugs? No? Then keep your mouth shut!”

Never taking his eyes of his friend Ned attempts a shaky smile. After shaking of Betty’s hold on his arm he slowly crawls over but stays far enough away. As soon as he gets within whispering reach, he exhales all the uncertainty in a quick breath.

“Hey, Pete, you’re doing fine. More than fine actually. You’re doing great in keeping us safe but you need to breath. C’mon take a breath with me. Slow and easy.”

Peter wheezes arms shaking. He hears the sharp intake of breath behind him as Mr. Harrington ushers the class to be quiet and try to crawl out from underneath the fallen concrete.

“I can’t. I can’t breathe—”

“Sure, you can, dude. You’re…you’re a hero. So, just focus on my voice and try to keep breathing, okay?”

It works. Peter’s eyes seem to focus. Red and puffy and Ned’s glad he’s already soaked through because he can’t take Peter crying in front of him right now. He offers him another wobbly grin and tries to give him a thumbs up.

“Dude—_Ned_, you need to get out of here. Get them out of here!”

“Already on it, Peter. Don’t worry about a thing, okay? I’m your guy in the chair, remember? You just keep on staying put for a few more minutes. Can you do that for me?”

“Get out, Ned! This is serious!”

Peter’s face is flushing with exhaustion. Blood dripping down his chin as he fights to steady is hold. Ned almost feels bad for his next words. Almost.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you, man. Sorry.”

“He’s right, loser.”

Ned whips his head around to look and true to her words MJ pushes off Mr. Harrington’s attempts to get her to crawl out from underneath the broken building like most of their classmates have done. She tries to come closer. There’s dirt on her face with her curls hanging into her eyes. She’s a damp mess. Her hands are shaking betraying her cool demeanor but she’s here. With them. Unwilling to leave unless forced. Ned’s pretty sure he’s crying but MJ already thinks he’s a loser so he can’t bother to care about that.

“Ned! MJ! You need to get out—”

“No way Mr. Harrington.”

“As your teacher I’m telling you right now to get the hell out of here—”

“He’s my friend! My best friend. I won’t abandon him for all the detentions in the world. So, tough luck.”

“Listen to him!”

Peter’s cry cuts the argument short. He grits his teeth hard enough Ned’s sure they should have grind to dust from the force as he clenches his jaw. It makes his lip split and bleed as he takes in a deep breath before he wets them with his tongue.

“I can’t try to lift it off me if you’re still here.”

As if to prove his point Peter winces when the concrete makes a cracking noise above them. Dust falling into the small space between their crawling forms and the ground.

“So…so get out and try to calm down the others. Make sure there’s no video or something, uh, maybe check if someone’s hurt. Just don’t stay here. I’ll try to lift it off me as soon as you’re out. I promise—I pinky promise you that. Scouts honor.”

“Peter…”

“I swear to the Lego Death Star we built Ned if you don’t take MJ and get out of here like two minutes ago, I’ll—”

“I’ll stay with Peter.” Mr. Harrington says face full of fear but he holds up a trembling hand to silence the protests. “He _is_ my student. Suddenly super strength or not and I have full responsibility for you kids, so I’ll stay with him. Now, Michelle, Ned, please go. I’m not an expert nor qualified to deal with this but I can’t imagine this to get easier for Peter the longer this goes on. Peter, this won’t stand for negation.”

“You know Mr. Harrington for a teacher you’re cool. Definitely in need of a raise in paycheck, though.”

“Keep moving, Ned.”

“I’ll wait outside for you Peter. Don’t think I’ll not come back if you take too long, dude. You don’t break pinky promises.”

Putting one hand in front of the other Ned crawls past Mr. Harrington with a pleading glance in Peter’s direction. Their teacher nods with cracked glasses as he moves on. It feels like forever and way too fast until they’re out of the soon to be rubble. MJ stands brushing off dirt from her wet and dirty clothing and Ned follows her example.

“Babe! Babe, where’s Peter? Is he…Is he still under there?”

Betty is in his face with her frown full of concern. Taking her hands into his own he pulls her away from the wreck just in case Peter started to lift it. He sees MJ shake of Brad in the corner of his eyes as she moves to catch up with him.

Thankfully there are few people wandering around the streets after the whole attack of the water monster. In their haste to get away the streets are near empty of live. His classmates don’t waste any breath in questioning him.

“How the hell is Peter able to keep this up?!”

“We want some answers Leeds!”

“Is Peter some kind of mutant?”

“Where the fuck are Mr. Harrington and Parker—”

“Better question is why didn’t this Mysterio guy help us out?”

“What?” Ned turns to look at Flash. He’s quick to lunge forward to steal the phone Flash has got in a death grip in his fist with a scowl dark enough to make the boy pause in his protest. Flash holds up his hands in surrender.

“That Mysterio guy! He must have seen us from the sky—hell he even waved at us before but he didn’t do anything to help. If he’s a new hero he should have helped us but he didn’t! Fuck that guy!”

Murmurs of agreement echo within the class. Ned nods as he hands MJ Flash’s phone knowing he’s scared of her. Most people are. She takes it, almost dropping it with the way her hands shake. She shrugs off Brad’s attempt of sliding an arm around her with a glare.

“What is important right now is that Peter saved our lives—” MJ silences any further questions on how he did it with another glare as she crosses her arms. “—which means we won’t bother him with any questions until he’s well again. Is that clear?”

Silence answers her.

* * *

He’s been to Space. He helped save the world. Moving another building off him should be nothing.

Expect it’s _everything_. Everywhere. Too heavy, too much all at once. Peter’s breath hitches as he tries to stand and it’s too similar. The weight on his hands, the lack of air in his lungs, the pressure on his chest and the stinging in his eyes.

_I can’t…I can’t move it. Not like this. Not ever._

But he can’t think like that. He knows. But all that keeps replaying in his head is the fact his classmates had seen—_oh god, how is he supposed to explain that?!—_and Homecoming. He sees it in more detail than he can remember the Star Wars movies and every shift is rattling inside his bones.

All he wants is a vacation.

“C’mon…up…I need to lift it up. I can do this…I can do this—”

_You’re Spiderman. Come on Spiderman!_

“Just like that Peter. You’re doing great. I know you can do it.”

For a short second he falters at the praises of encouragement Mr. Harrington offers him. The teacher is close enough he’s sitting right in front of Peter looking close to having a panic attack of his own. He jumps at the creak of the concrete at Peter’s moment of weakness but he stays. Doesn’t yell beyond the quiet assurances—"_you’re so brave. Just like that. Just a bit more. I know you can do this, Peter”_—and Peter wants to apologize. He wants to call May—heck he wants to call Happy because they’re all he’s left.

Most of all he wants to live. To breath without pain and to sleep without terror.

_“And I wanted you to be better.”_

He can do this. He can. Mr. Stark would want him to keep going. To keep trying with sheer will and stubbornness like he always does. He won’t disappoint Tony. He won’t.

With a deep breath Peter gets his feet underneath him and _pushes_.

He pushes up, groaning in pain at the strain in his muscles—he knows they’ll be sore in a few hours—but he keeps lifting until he can feel his legs standing underneath him. He hears Mr. Harrington sigh in relief as he balances the piece of the building he’s caught and pushes it off to the side as he heaves his breathes.

White flashes across his vision. Body trembling from exertion or the cold—he doesn’t know. Mr. Harrington gives a cry of relief and Peter blinks twice to get his blurry vision to steady as arms come to crush him to a chest. Footsteps come closer, more trampling of a hoard of people than actual steps but it’s hard to focus when every breath hurt.

“—you did it, Peter! We’re save—"

People are speaking. Peter shouldn’t have trouble to hear them with his sense. Except dark spots start to dance in the former whiteness of his sight and his limbs feel ice cold. The ground crumbles away underneath his feet as hands come to cradle his face. A thumb swipes at his temple and he feels the hovering of another pair of hands near him. With the concerned face floating in his vision he feels like he should be saying something. Anything.

“I’m sorry.”

Then he’s falling again. This time without a web to be his saving grace.

* * *

“Okay, okay, it’s fine. No need to ring alarm. Peter’s probably just exhausted but that’s quite a bit of blood and head injuries are no joke. Oh god—”

“Someone needs to call an ambulance!”

“No!” Ned doesn’t try to keep his voice down. He glances at Peter’s peaceful face as Mr. Harrington pats him on the cheeks and bites his lips. “He’s…that’s not…_listen_. Peter’s not normal. You saw what he did and if we get him to a hospital they’ll find out and…and that’s not really what he wants anyway. He heals faster than anyone else I know so he just needs a bed, some rest and maybe some food.”

“I can’t take such a risk, Ned—”

“Trust me. Please, _please_ just this once. I know this is a lot to take in but he saved us, so shouldn’t he at least get to keep this? He’s been through a lot of stuff the last year—which I totally can’t talk to you about—but if there’s one thing I know is that he’s really been looking forward to this vacation. You can grill me all you want but don’t take this from him.”

“So, you expect us to accept everything you tell us with no explanation what so ever? What the hell Leeds?”

Brad’s eyes dart around the class to look for support or maybe just to avoid to look at Peter. Ned understands that feeling all too well. Seeing a person just fall over isn’t easy on the nerves especially after a near death experience. He inches closer to his best friend shifting into a defensive position. If push came to shove Ned wouldn’t budge. Not this time.

“Considering we aren’t squashed to pancakes right now I’d say that’s fair.”

“MJ—”

“It’s not my secret to tell.” Ned shots MJ a grateful smile before he takes Betty’s offered handkerchief to dap at the blood on Peter’s temple. “Thanks.”

He’s careful with his movements. Fumbling with his hands a few times as he avoids peering up into the curious faces of their classmates. Peter would be embarrassed at the coddling. Always quick to deny his wounds to take care of them on his own. Such a bad habit shouldn’t make Ned this exasperated and fond of his best friends in equal measures as he is but he gets it. He half expects Flash to make a comment about the tenderness he displays. But Ned’s long learnt he has to cherish every chance he gets at taking care of his brother from another mother. When nothing comes, he turns to give Betty her handkerchief back.

“Here. Sorry for all the blood.”

“No…no keep it. It’s fine, babe.”

Betty’s attempt at a smile looks shaky at best but there’s something on her face that makes him pause. It mirrors most of the rest of their class. A thoughtfulness as they continue to stare with a hint of worry in most of their eyes. She looks seconds away from solving one of the difficult crosswords puzzles they’d done during the flight. His heart throbs with affection for her. She’s smart and so beautiful and caring and—

_Oh no._

“Alright! Can we go now? We’re all soaked through and it’s getting kind of cold, isn’t it? MJ can you help me get Peter on my back? I’ll carry him back to the hotel where, you know, we can change into dry clothes and stuff. That would be really cool of you.”

His distraction works because Mr. Harrington is quick to snap out of his little anxiety attack.

“I’ll carry him, Ned. You’re right…this was quite a shock and we’d all could use a good night of sleep to deal with all of this. This doesn’t mean you’re out of trouble though. We need to talk about this.”

Ned nods in defeat. He gives Peter an apological glance mentally apologizing for not being able to do more. He knows he’ll be forgiven but if he’s dragging his feet while staying close to Mr. Harrington who’s got Peter on his back nobody needs to see the tears in his eyes.

Betty pats him on the shoulder and sticks to his side without speaking anyway.

* * *

As far as waking up goes Peter finds no relief in the absence of his usual nightmares.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

Limbs heavy and sore his eyes are slow to slide open. He blinks a few times glad he’s not blinded by an on slaughter of lights as the drops of water fall into his face. Moving up a hand up to wipe his face as he wrinkles his nose and glances up. There are cracks running along the wall where water drips from. At least he hopes its water. The celling has clearly seen better days judging from the grey paint chipping off. Taking a sniff of air at the strange smell which tickles his nose he frowns. The smell of old soup and bread shouldn’t be so tempting nor as distracting as it is. But it’s a safe topic to think about.

Siting up with a grimace at the creak of the bed he glances sideways to see a tray sitting on the nightstand. A bowl of yellowish liquid with carrots swimming on top and a piece of bread stare up at him. His stomach clenches in a way he’s all too familiar with but he shakes his head to clear it off the sleepy haze.

A tickling throb of wrongness echoes in his skull as he rubs his forehead.

“What happened…?”

_And where’s Ned?_

Because he’s in his room back in the hotel. Where he shouldn’t be without Ned. Because the last thing he remembers had been—

“No, no, no, no…”

Peter whispers pulling his legs up on the bed. He rests his head into his hands as he tries to breath. Hunger gone in place of the consuming pit of a void in his stomach he tries to get his scrambled thoughts together.

_Water monster. Then there was that building…that building that almost crushed my class and I—_

“This is bad…I messed up—god did I mess up.”

Peter bolts from the bed tripping in his haste. Throwing a glance at the shut door he paces inside the room not daring to step out.

“They’re safe. I got there in time, so they’re safe.” Peter mumbles running a hand through his hair as he groans. “I really, really did it this time. May’s going to kill me—Happy is going to kill me. Mister Stark is—”

_Get it together Parker._

Closing his eyes as he exhales a shaky breath he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Okay…” Better to focus at smaller things than get lost in the big picture. “They’re probably fine…shocked out of their minds and they probably have a lot of questions I’m going to have to deflect but Ned’s already on it so I don’t have to worry too much about that.”

_This is bad. They’re going to find out I’m Spiderman—if they don’t already know. This is a school for geniuses. Fuck!_

Leg bouncing Peter takes the next few minutes to calm down and search for his phone. It’s not on his person, it’s not even in the room and the panic threatens to swallow him again. His suit isn’t there either. Ned probably took it from him, he reassures himself, and eyes the window with longing.

He could run. Back to May or to the nearest phone and call Happy to get him. He could leave this all behind and get a head start for a few days. Maybe try to think of a believable excuse. It’s a good idea. He should do that.

But he _can’t_.

_“With great power comes great responsibility.”_

Running won’t solve anything. It got him into this mess in the first place. A fixable mess. He can do this.

_I’m just gonna get it out. No pressure Parker. Just do what you always do. May always tells you to be just yourself and everything will turn out fine._

“Fine” being a lousy term to use with possible body damage and mental issues as the end result. As a superhero a door shouldn’t scare him so much. Still, seeing the dark wood gives him clammy hands.

“—way…no negation…”

“What…?”

Pressing his ear against the door Peter can make out voices two rooms away. Shushed and angry and _desperate_—

He turns the door knob and rushes out. Part of him wants to climb the celling to sneak in. The other, larger part with the bad feeling that slowly brings back his initial panic tells him what a stupid idea it would be. It’s the same part clinging to the childish hope his secret identity is still a secret. 

There’s no one in the hallway as he follows the voices. The wood creaks underneath his feet and Peter curses under his breath. He doubts the celling would be better. He sneaks along the halls mindful of his steps.

_I can do this. I’m Spiderman. I lifted a building off me twice I can face a bunch of teenagers and a few teachers. I can do this._

Even though he feels ready to throw up. There are tons of things he’d rather do instead of throwing himself to the wolves. Taking silly pictures with Ned, eating a feast or Paris. Calling May to hear her voice or take a shower. Change his clothes. Watch Star Wars. Be _normal_ for once. Yet he’s stuck here doing the right thing and facing his fears. There’s no easy choice to make—it’s never even a choice! Because between feeling guilty and hurting others Peter would rather choose to throw himself in front of a train.

“_Oh my god!”_

Limbs locking in place he flinches. Screams fill his ears like the ringing of the school’s fire alarm. Loud and painful in its intensity. A loud thud echoes as the screaming goes quiet as if something had been dropped—or some**_one_**—

Peter bursts through the door without hesitation. The door slams against the wall with enough force to drown out the rest of the shouting.

“What’s going on—”

Peter chokes on his question eyes growing wide in disbelief as his tongue ties itself into knots. The room abruptly goes quiet. Even the sight of Mr. Dell’s body unconscious on the floor doesn’t make him snap out of his shock.

Because…

“Hello Mister Parker. How nice of you to finally join us.”

…Nick Fury is sitting in a chair gun in hand looking seconds away from shooting again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Fury is not amused. Peter is a mess, MJ won't stand for manipulative government bullshit and Flash tries to help.

“Hello…hello Mister Fury. Sir, funny seeing you here—”

“Sit.”

Peter rambles on without batting an eye. “—but you really shouldn’t be here. Also, is my teacher still breathing? Because if he’s not then we’re gonna to have a problem. A big problem—”

“Parker, sit down. _Now_.” Fury gestures at the seat looking less than impressed and Peter swallows down his protests because hey, the man has a gun in hand. Better not to antagonize him.

So, Peter sits down. He makes it a new form of art to not look any of his classmates in the eyes and waits. Fingers drumming against his knees he tries hard not to fidget. But the longer the deafening silence drags on the hotter the gazes on his neck burn.

“Could you, uh, maybe put that gun away? Please?” Peter bursts out with a squeak. Cheeks flushing, he sinks into his chair at the scowl Fury sends him.

“Let’s be clear. If anyone tries anything here, you and I will go to another funeral.”

But Fury puts the gun away and Peter sighs in relief despite the chill going down his back. Muscles tight in anticipation he wonders where he went wrong. Saving people could never be a mistake so why did the universe try to screw him over all the time? Didn’t it take enough from him?

“You’re a very difficult person to contact, Mister Parker.”

“I have been busy…” Peter says with a wry smile glancing around the room. Ned tries to hold his gaze but seeing his best friend panic would make Peter panic and he needs to keep his cool so, he lets his gaze fall to his shoes. “With school and field trips and all that.”

“Too busy to answer my calls?” Fury doesn’t let him answer. Shadows falling across his face he makes an intimidating picture of a glower. Like a grizzle bear previously poked with a stick.

“Too busy to save the world?”

All Peter manages is a disbelieving laugh two times too high for a boy in puberty. Hands sweaty and sticky he points at himself while trying not to drown in the silence of the room.

“Me? Save the world? What are you talking about? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just…just me! What could I possible do to save the world? I’m just a teenager!”

_He knows. He knows and he’ll call me out. With my whole class watching—_

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what you can do for the good of the universe, Spider-Man?”

And Peter knew it would come to this, yet he hadn’t counted on feeling so _betrayed_. A sucker punch to the chest from the Hulk wouldn’t have hurt this much. Body feeling like the time he fell from the sky into the icy waters of the river he finds himself gasping for air. For someone to hold onto him to pull him free. Nobody comes and it _stings_. He knows he should deny it. The longer he stays silent the harder it will be to convince anyone of the opposite.

_But they already know, _his mind coos into his ears, _they know. They know it’s you. Peter Parker._

“Peter isn’t Spider-Man! That’s…that would be crazy, isn’t that right guys?”

Peter’s head shots up at the outburst. Ned gives him a look. Soft and affectionate and so firm in his belief—in his lie _for_ Peter and he’s never felt more undeserving of their friendship than in this moment.

“Yeah, the nerd being Spider-Man? That’s as likely to be true as me saying I’m in a secret relationship with Scarlet Witch.”

“Peter’s never been the most active in gym class.”

Betty joins in while elbowing Flash in the ribs. She gives him an apologetic smile and Peter wants to laugh it off, to join in while he can because they’re giving him a _chance_.

A chance to forget this. A chance to move on and be normal and to continue their trip.

Even though they _know_. Flash avoids looking him in the face with skittish eyes and a good deal of guilt. Hands twitching for his phone no doubt. Ned’s eyes holding so much protectiveness. So much firmness despite being such a gentle guy. Betty’s death grip on Ned’s sleeve as if she can will the lie into existence with enough strength. MJ’s silence.

There are no questions. No demands for him to spit out his secrets. Only respect to his privacy as they share a glance above his head. Brad nods as the class echoes their agreement and Peter is too tired to be mortified about the stinging in his eyes. He lowers his eyes back to the floor.

Fury snorts. “Is that so? Then what do you call a teenager who lifts up a building?”

“A freak but that’s nothing new to Parker.” Flash winces at the reprimand swat to the head courtesy of MJ. “It’s true!”

“Dude, shut up.” Ned hisses and Flash frowns.

“While this camaraderie of unity is touching, you’re all missing the point.”

Fury’s harsh voice cuts through the hesitant chatter like a gunshot through masses of people. Peter startles sucking in a breath to raise his gaze from the floor.

Only to come face to face with the Spider-Man suit.

“The world needs Spider-Man. But apparently he’s too busy to play house to take on his duties.”

It’s laughable. How quick Peter’s patience snaps at those words. After everything he’s been through and had done it’s the blatant absence of sympathy—no, **_respect_**—which gets the thin thread to rip. Throughout all his years anger had never been his first reaction to _anything_. Disappointment, guilt, sadness, shame, grief always came first. It softened his fiery burst of temper when it surfaced and more often than not, it was frustration instead of true rage. May told him the reason was his loving nature. His need to put others before himself. People lashed out in their anger, blinded by their rashness and desire to hurt to make themselves feel better, just thinking about it made Peter feel queasy. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt someone because he couldn’t think rationally. He knew words cut deeper than a slap to the face.

Fists clenching hard enough to draw blood, Peter grinds his teeth together as he leaps to his feet. His chair clatters to the ground, lips pressing into a pale line on his face as he rips the suit out from Fury’s grasp with a trembling hand.

“What the world needs—” Peter can’t recognize his own voice. Raw and deep in a quiet snarl as he meets Fury’s eye with his own, taking a step forward. “—is an _adult_. Or the Avengers.”

“Glad to hear you say that. If you hadn’t noticed I’m talking to an Avenger.”

“Another Avenger then! Someone like Thor—” Peter raises his voice as Fury narrows his eye.

“Off world.”

“Doctor Strange—”

“Currently unavailable.” Fury says while cocking an eyebrow and Peter knows he’s grasping at straws now.

“Captain Marvel!”

Fury’s face twists into a grimace. “Don’t speak of her.”

“You don’t get to barrage into my private life and ask for a favor after screwing me over. A secret identity is a secret for a reason!”

And nobody ever gets that. All they see is his age in favor of ignoring his usefulness and abilities or in this case try to exploit him while blackmailing him. A year ago, he’d bend over backwards for this, aiming to please and impress but Peter’s _tired_. So, so tired of the constant fire burning his nerves raw.

“You screwed yourself over, that’s not on me, young man. I’d advice for you to calm down before some rash actions must be taken. I am merely here to have a chat with you.”

“So what? You’d think I let people, my class, my _friends_ get squashed into a blotch of red paint just because that’d be more convenient for me? Sorry to break it to you but that’s…that’s _not_ a choice because human decency wins out. Always. Without hesitation.”

“Then why are you hesitating?”

The downside of anger is it leaves too quickly for Peter to hold onto. Flinching back like Fury’s slapped him in the face with words alone, the righteous anger drains out like chalk during rain. Like a shark smelling blood Fury is quick to jump on his show of weakness.

“Are people’s lives not at stake with those creatures destroying whole cities? Families torn apart left and right. Hospitals getting short-staffed because their staff burns out due to the overcrowdings. Are **_those_** people not as important?”

_They are! Of course, they are!_

Peter wants to protest. He’s not shallow enough to say people hold no significant if he doesn’t know them. Spider-Man protects everyone without discrimination. He wants to save them, doesn’t want kids with no parents or people begging in the streets for food. He knows how it feels and wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. No matter their deeds, whether good or bad, age and gender don’t matter.

The dust of broken rubber sticks to the roof of his mouth when he swallows. Flashes of the destruction in Venice pushing their way to the forefront of his mind. Peter flushes in shame.

Fury scoffs.

“But Spider-Man needs a _vacation_. Never mind the worldwide threat terrorizing the earth. Casualties aside. Who cares about the hundreds of people who lost their lives two weeks ago in Mexico.”

Putting it this way makes Peter sound like a spoiled, whiny brat. A selfish child. His stomach flips at the high number and he swallows the rising bile in his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

_“Sorry doesn’t cut it!”_

Nails biting into the palms of his hands, Peter blinks against the stinging in his eyes.

_“If you die, I feel like that’s on me.”_

God. He understands it now more than ever. The crushing weight resting upon his shoulders is the reason he’s never going to grow tall. It’ll squash him like a bug. Worse than the building could ever be. He can lift rubble and concrete off him, but he cannot bring back the dead. No matter how much he wishes he could.

Maybe he should go. His vacation is over. There’s no reason for him to be here. It might even get him away from the questions he’s sure he’ll have to answer from his class. From their judging stares. His normalcy went up into smoke the moment he saved them. Perhaps it’s time to grow up. Listening to the adult in charge of the security of the world would be a wise thing to do.

“Alright, back the fuck up.”

“What did you say to me, Miss?”

Peter gapes, ignoring the reprimanding “Michelle!” from Mr. Harrington in favor of staring slack jacked at the girl who looks seconds away from throwing the nearest thing in her reach at _Nick Fury_.

_Who still has a gun within his reach_, his brain reminds him.

MJ looks possible murderous. Lips twisted into a thin-veiled snarl, hands clenching by her sides. Her dark eyes are narrowed into slits like a panther staring at its prey, seconds away from pouncing and tearing into its flesh. There’s the beginning of a flush rising to her cheeks. Invisible to anyone without enhanced vision. She looks like the picture definition of indignation.

For a breath Peter thinks she’s mad at him—for keeping secrets, for not being honest because if MJ values one thing it’s honesty—but then she _rounds_ on Fury like a more tanned version of Aunt May in front of Tony Stark upon hearing his internship had been a ruse for Spider-Man.

“You’re trying to manipulate him into bullshit for your own good despite him clearly saying no and I hold no respect for people who can’t take a rejection.”

MJ is telling _Nick Fury_ off for him. Heart feeling ready to burst from affection or a possible heart attack, Peter remembers to pick up his jaw from the floor and makes a quick gesture for her to stop talking at the odd sensation tickling his neck.

“You’re not even subtle about it. You’re guilt-tripping a kid who burst into tears during class when the teacher told him to dissect a frog. What’s Spider-Man going to do against a huge water monster? Water’s too wet to stick to, I can’t imagine those webs to work well either. Let’s face it you’re here because he’s your best shot and you’re desperate for someone to take the place the loss of the Avengers left. To pacify the masses. The fact still stands you’re trying to blackmail a minor.”

Not one of his proudest moments in school. The mentioning of his loss stings but it doesn’t stop Peter from inching between Fury’s line of shooting and MJ.

“Well, it appears kids these days hold no respect for their elders anymore. First, a wet-behind the ears hero sends _me_ to voicemail and then a high school girl thinks she gets the right to tell me off. Now, how do you think this is going to end, Parker?”

“Not in bloodshed.” Peter is quick to add on in panic. Holding up his hands to pacify the man. “Neither in another funeral. Let’s not get hasty.”

Fury sighs. Peter tries not to flinch at the noise while shooting MJ a pleading glance as she huffs. She doesn’t look scared and it’s freaky but just because he gets the urge to jump to the ceiling and stick there doesn’t mean he’s an expert on the behavior of human fear.

“She’s…she’s right.” Flash says, squaring his shoulders when the room turns to look at him. It’s an echo of his usual confidence yet it doesn’t stop him from speaking.

“You can’t force him to fight, not when he’s a minor. I doubt you’ve got the permission of his aunt either, so I’d advice to leave him alone if you don’t want to get sued. My mother would jump at the chance to take this case, since she’s one of the best lawyers there is. I wonder what the world would think. The government trying to force a fifteen-year-old to fight their battles. Doesn’t make it any easier for you that he looks like a twelve-year-old version of a kicked puppy.”

As far as insults go this isn’t even on the list of top hundred for Flash. Peter drops the suit still clenched in one of his fists to the floor in his incredulity. Flash doesn’t look at him and Peter doesn’t know how to react. How does one react when their school bully stands up for them?

Considering that Spider-Man is Flash’s favorite hero it shouldn’t come as much of a shock. Yet all Peter can do is stare because for once, he’s totally out of his depth. Nothing makes sense anymore.

“Let’s be clear. The easiest solution to this problem would be to silence any of your protests and concerns before anyone gets wind of them.” Fury says, face carved of stone as he pulls his gun back out. Flash takes a step back only for him to be grabbed and to be pulled behind Mr. Harrington.

“You’re not shooting any of my students!”

“If you kept them in line I won’t need to.”

Fury’s reassurance isn’t reassuring _at all_ as he rests the gun in his lap, fingers warped around the trigger. The time window it takes to aim and to react are so close together it’s impossible to catch the dart—or bullet without harm, Peter knows from experience.

“Hang on, can’t you like, wipe their memory or something? Like these things they use in this movie. Does Men in Black ring a bell? No? It’s basically a device which—”

“Stark warned me about the pop-culture references from you.”

Peter’s mouth snaps closed with a clutter of teeth. It hurts. Biting on his tongue isn’t fun either. The taste of metal is familiar on his tongue. A small comfort which isn’t a healthy habit to have but his coping mechanism are his own. It’ll heal. Unlike other things.

“I’ll be frank. You’re going to go with me whether you want to or not because trust me, I’ll find a way to make you agree. You’re a smart kid, so you already know it. We don’t waste such resources on wiping the memories of a bunch of snot-nosed kids. We also don’t have time, so either you’re giving me a clear answer now or I’ll call in the nice people waiting just outside of this door and we’ll do this the hard way.”

His skin prickles like ants are crawling over his body. A vague sense of wrongness causes sweat to break out and Peter’s hackles rise. It’s as much of a warning as it is a threat and a promise. Part of him wants to scream this isn’t fair but life rarely is.

Mr. Harrington makes a noise, taking a step forward with his hand reaching out.

“Absolutely not! Over my dead body are you taking Peter with you—”

Peter’s _moves_ when his mind cries out. He leaps over his fallen chair, twisting sideways and throws out a hand. Something pierces his skin—right into the inner part of his exposed wrist. A dart sticks out. A sharp contrast to his pale skin shielding the chest of his teacher.

Peter faintly hears the sound of shrieking and the door banging open as he lowers his arm.

“Dude! You got shot—”

“Oh my god! He—He just shot you!”

“What the fuck is wrong with this trip?!”

“Woah, loser, you okay?”

Peter pays no mind to the voices mixing together as he pulls out the dart. It leaves a faint red dot which closes up seconds after, but the sluggish feeling remains. He levels Fury a look.

“What the hell?” His voice cracks on the last word. He feels a detached sense of dread pull tight at his chest. “You…you can’t just—_shot_ someone! That’s my teacher not a target practice shield!”

“It’s only a tranquilizer, Parker, not poison.” Fury says like it makes it _okay_ to shot people at random and Peter lets go off the dart as if it burnt him.

“So what? It’s all good? Like hell it is! He could have hurt himself by cracking his head open against the floor or, or a table! What if you missed and _shot him in the eye_? Huh? He would have lost an eye—”

“Enough. I need an answer, Parker. Now. Either you make a choice or Dimitri gets to have some fun.”

The towering form of a man cracks his knuckles while blocking the door. Body feeling heavy and ready to take a nap, Peter tries to gather his fuzzy thoughts. He doesn’t have his suit on. Nor his web shooters within reach. With the way his body feels, all lead filled limbs with cotton candy threatening to take over his mind, he doubts getting into a fight will accomplish anything other than a murder since controlling his strength may not work in this situation.

“Alright, fine, okay! I’ll go with you, Mister Fury, just don’t shot anybody anymore. I’ll be good. I won’t make trouble, I’ll go willingly, so let’s not make a pincushion or a punching bag out of anyone here, cool? Cool. Let’s go.”

Peter nods to agree with his words as Fury stands. He’ll call Happy when he can at the first chance he gets. Happy offered to come and get him. Happy will understand and will help him sort out this mess. He’ll get him back to May and they can go eat something. Maybe he’ll be nice enough to speak with the school too. Get them to sign some sort of contract Ms. Potts has pre-made for him—because Tony always said Peter was horrible at keeping secrets and lying and his identity would only be a matter of time until it got out, even if it was said as a joke—and he’ll get the chance to live a relative normal life again. Without getting shoved into lockers this time.

But his hopes goes up in flames when he turns to see Dimitri grab Mr. Harrington who squawks at the manhandling. Peter’s blood runs cold as his eyes grow wide.

“Hey!”

“Let go of me—”

Dimitri tightens his grip and when Mr. Harrington’s face turns pinched, Peter jumps in. Body going on muscle memory and instincts, he ducks to deliver a kick to the back of Dimitri’s leg. The man hisses, legs buckling. He releases Mr. Harrington as Peter lungs forward to jab him in the throat while blocking the punch the man throws at him in the last second. Dimitri reels back, wheezing for breath and Peter almost feels bad for him. If it wasn’t for the way his mind _howls,_ he might have even apologized.

Except there’s a burn on his neck as the room sways. Colors blending together as the floor falls away.

_Shit. Oh fuck. Don’t go to sleep. C’mon, Spider-Man won’t faint. Stay awake, stay ‘wake—_

Peter stumbles letting gravity do its job and drops to the ground. His head smacks against the floor and his ears are ringing. It feels like he’s slammed face first into a building once again. All blurry edges and drawn-out noises bouncing off his skull. There are hands on him, gentle but insistent and someone is shaking him. Or trying to roll him onto his back. They’re soon ripped away from him. Their soft warmth seeping through the thin layer of his clothes gone. Instead he’s cold and scared because he doesn’t know what’s happening. He can barely see.

_No, no, no, no…this wasn’t supposed t’happen._

A pair of boots enter his vision. Heavy and harsh before a hand settles onto his shoulder. The touch makes him flinch.

“—safety measure…take…won’t be harmed. I—…needs you.”

Peter doesn’t understand much of what is said to him. He blinks, fighting against the suffocating blanket of sleep dragging him into the darkness. He thinks it might be important. That he should be fighting and struggling as much as he can against the hands picking him up but all he manages is an uncoordinated twitch of limbs and a slurred protest of what might be a sentence before he’s out like a light.

He dreams of concrete. Heavy and unforgiving. Darkness surrounding him. Of dark eyes and a hand in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Chases the warmth of a comforting touch and the smell of sharp cologne and motor oil clinging to his sense. Red fills his vision and the warmth is gone, nothing more than smoke and dead eyes.

Hours pass before Peter awakens with a violent gasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, it's finally done! I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out. I'm getting more or less the hang of handling those characters, I think. Anyway, thank you for reading my story and don't be shy to leave a comment! Those are like drugs for me. Only healthier. Not that I'm doing drugs--
> 
> Stay tuned for more works from me since I've got quite a few works in progress for our good old Spidey. (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for the Marvel Universe so don't be shy to leave a comment of your opinion down below!  
This actually started as a small one-shot and suddenly it turns into this monster of a two-shot. ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ  
But I've caught the Spider-Fever, so be sure to stick around to see more works from me. 」(￣▽￣」)


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